Mending the Day
by Entwife Incognito
Summary: Another tag for 702 Greybar Hotel, the ending. The writing may be rough but I wanted to post before the next episode. Jisbon sexual tension is high with me. Warning! This 1-shot jumps right into M territory with an adult scene, backdoor sex, role-play and tickling. If you don't like that stuff, then for sure don't read this! Disclaimer: I own nothing about The Mentalist.


Lisbon had stripped him at the door, making his upset skitter to the corners of his bruised mind, turning horrible images into shadows. He knew it was temporary.

Cupping her hands over his fingers, she pressed them to make him grasp and pull off her shirt. She was braless, groaning kisses into his mouth as he handled her warm skin and teased the nipples. She opened her pants, shoving his hand down the front, giving the other a start at taking them down with her underwear in back while she held his stiff flesh and sucked his lips and tongue. When he had her clothes off, she climbed to his waist, her mouth deep and noisy in his.

She was desperate, hungry to chase away the day's images. "We lived! I never thought I'd have you again. I just want to feel how alive you are. I love you! Make love to me!"

"Yes. No more about what happened today. Talk later."

He was rigid and hot in her hand as she angled her hips to impale herself, but he held her bottom and walked to the bedroom kissing the woman so alive in his arms. She was infectious, chasing his demons into the dark corners and blasting them to ash with her heat and light. She smelled of musk and sweat, and something indefinably tasty and Teresa. Her wet mouth slaked his parched thirst for her. It drove his thoughts lower. Probing with long fingers, he discovered her wet and already radiating heat.

As he approached the bed, he rumbled. "I want you to remember something . . . "

He tossed her into the air, legs peddling and arms flailing, her laughing shout turning to a soft oof as she landed on the mattress, thick wild hair a halo of chocolate waves and curls. Jane was on her immediately, a wide grin on his face, straddling her lower legs to contain them as he ran his fingers lightly on her ribs, tickling them. She gripped his arms to push them away but she was no match for his determined strength. Wiggling fingers roved her belly, feathered the jaw just under her ears. When she became breathless, he would stop, brush the tickled places softly with his hands and kiss her, then start in a new place.

"Are you ticklish?"

"No! Just when you tickle me!' This inanity made her laugh harder and he gave her another round.

"Are you ticklish?"

She couldn't stop laughing to answer. Finally, she managed, "Stop! Stop! You're gonna make me pee!"

Jane eased off, pretending shock. "You would pee on our beautiful bed? A fine thing for a sweet, beautiful woman to do during lovemaking."

Trying to talk during his tickle turned her breath to gasps between bouts of laughter. "No. No! But . . . you'll make me pee if you . . . don't stop tickling me! _Your fault!_" A throaty scream followed as she tried to get loose from a renewed bout.

"Aha! So you _are_ ticklish! You're admitting it!"

"Yes, yes! Just . . . _stop!_ My stomach! . . . it's hurting from laughing . . . Patrick . . ." she begged.

He moved to the side of her legs, staving off both her hands with one of his as she continued to try to fend him off. "Shhhhh, shhhhh, Teresa . . . I'm stopping . . ."

She put her hands between her legs and squeezed, sighing loudly. "Oh, god. Thank you."

He brushed her skin, firmly, smoothly, helping her to recover. "You have other tickle places . . . horny tickle places . . . "

Patrick was fully aroused and bouncing on her hip as he leaned over his calming hands. When she looked at his full, hard penis, the head slick, Teresa wanted him.

Gently moving her hands to her sides, he separated her legs a little and let his fingers dance like whispers of breath on her lower lips and the creases that defined her female form. When her mouth was round and open with pleasure, he shifted and brought his hard flesh to her lips, long arm extended to keep his fingertips softly dancing on her restless pelvis.

Rooting for the fleshy head, she took it into her warm mouth, lightly sucking as her tongue swabbed him mercilessly. He lay on his side, curling over her swollen labia, sucking them into his mouth. He felt the low groan in her throat vibrate around his erect flesh. Holding her hips tight to his face, he fed on her while Teresa's sweet mouth drew him quickly to orgasm. He wasn't ready to finish.

"There's another place you're ticklish . . ."

"Mmmmmm, no . . . no more tickling."

He turned her hips and pulled away to let her fall gently to her stomach.

"No? But it's such a beautiful, soft and sensitive little triangle of flesh. With dimples, too."

"Oh. There. I know. It's pretty, and you can drive me crazy there."

"That's because you're ticklish." His smile was smug, but soft and full of pleasure, enjoying her little vanity. "Do you want to go for a ride to crazy?"

"Yes. Yes, your pretty fingers on me. Now. Please. Use your nails."

Tapping and riding his fingernails as soft as butterflies on the flesh that pointed to the cleft of her bottom, he watched her arousal build and her ass undulate like waves. Another wave of stimulation from his fingers brought soft begging grunts of desire as she reached for him. He crawled on top of her, placing his hands near her shoulders so that the heat of his breath would flow over her cheek and ear. Wedging his knees between her legs, he pushed them wide open, pressed his chest to her shoulders and lodged himself between her fleshy cheeks. "Teresa . . . will you let me in here tonight?"

When she pushed to wedge him deeper, he sank the utmost tip of his erection onto the hollow of the soft opening there and began to gently bump until she curled her back and started to meet his lazy rhythm, testing him. "You'll take care of me?"

He kissed the back of her neck. "You're my treasure. I would never hurt you."

"Yes . . . I'll try."

Jane reached into the drawer of the bedside table, feeling for a condom and a little squeeze bottle of lubricant. As he molded the covering carefully down his cock, the excitement of introducing her to a new form of lovemaking bubbled in his groin, making him as hard as steel. He rubbed a lubricated finger over her soft bud of flesh until she lifted her hips again and he had seated the condom. "I'll go so easy. Just relax this ring of muscle, here." He massaged there until she was soft and open, cooing at him. "That's it."

Then he pulled her into an easy position with her hips up and rocked himself carefully inside with a gentle pop.

Teresa's breathing changed immediately, deep, low and primitive. Surprised. "Oh!" The ring of muscle tightened into a stranglehold.

Face turning red from the intense grip, Patrick breathed through the discomfort until her muscles relaxed again. "How does that feel?" He rocked in a little more, dripping lubricant onto his shaft.

"Full. And . . . hot . . . can you go deeper . . . oh . . ." Words dissolving into a moan, she relaxed fully and he slid in, the rippling channel accommodating him, squeezing, tightening, relaxing as he moved into her slow and easy.

Working with the natural reactions of her muscles inside, he moved tentatively until he found a pleasurable rhythm that made her pant, high notes that seemed to ripple with the gooseflesh rising at her neck and arms. Watching where they were joined created an erotic charge almost impossible to control. Focused on stroking her back and hips, he petted the triangle of flesh that had brought them to this state. After a squeaking cry, she adjusted the angle of her hips and moved faster, more purposefully. All he could do was moan his pleasure.

"Patrick! Paaaaa-trick. I don't know what this feeling is . . . I, I think I want to come in there.

Smiling, loving her words to describe the new sensations, "Me, too. Let me help . . ." He sat up slowly to stay lodged inside, pulling her onto his lap, her muscles clamping and relaxing as they adjusted. Panting, she sat with him buried deep inside, a couple of his fingers on her hard clit, and his other hand brushing and squeezing her breasts. Arms raised to hold his head close to hers, the sounds of her arousal rose in his ear. Her movements as she approached orgasm were all he needed to crash over the edge of ecstasy with her, shouting.

"Oh . . . oh," she breathed, coming down. "That orgasm happened everywhere!"

"I'm glad you enjoyed your first time, Teresa." He kissed her shoulders. "I'm happy it was with me."

Grabbing his hand, she brushed her lips along his fingers. "You were perfect. You made me feel so good. Thank you."

"You were heaven, as always."

When he had softened a little, he held the lip of the condom and pulled out, returning from the bathroom with a warm cloth to soothe her skin, inspect her for damage and slide a palliative cream on a swollen little rosebud, warmed to a shade of scarlet. "The skin might be a little irritated at first, but you look fine. Give it an extra wash for a couple of days, use this cream and you should be pink and tight in no time."

Lisbon was blushing when she turned to him with a smoldering, sultry look in her half-lidded eyes. "Why . . . thank you, Doctor Patrick, for tending to my bottom and leaving me instructions for its care."

Jane's eyes widened. Role-play. Teresa was in a mood! "Of course. You're welcome, Miss Lisbon. Perhaps I could call sometime and see how you're coming along?"

"Oh, yes, Doctor. I'll need you to take a look and see if I'm healing properly."

Turning her to face him, he smiled. "Pretty pink cheeks."

She pulled him into her arms, looking into his eyes and fingering his curls. "Patrick?"

He kept her gaze and waited.

"I love you . . . baby." Her cheeks colored and she looked shy.

"I love you, too, baby." He took a tender kiss.

"You made me feel . . . very good. I, I want to do that again sometime."

He smiled, pleased their first time together at this had gone so well. "We will. When we feel like it again." He gave her thigh a little slap and got up. "Time for a shower, now, huh?"

"I want you in the shower . . ."

"Then you shall have me." Sometimes this woman was perfectly insatiable. Perfectly.

" . . . but I'm too lazy."

"Miss Lisbon, you're showing signs of malaise. I must investigate. You're still under treatment and need tender care. If you can manage to walk to the shower, I will take your temperature."

"I'd like that, Doctor Patrick. Do you have a thermometer?"

"The best probe in the land! Come with me and I'll let you prepare it."

"Oh, Doctor! I can't wait for you to show me how it works!"

Teresa's giggling made Jane laugh. He was already hard and he was sure she was already wet. "Get in here and let's soap up and slide all over one another."

"You beautiful horny bastard. Come here and let me get your back first."

"Forget my back, Miss Lisbon. Your health is more important. You must prepare me to take your temperature."

She stroked his erection with a soapy hand. "Oh, my! Is this your thermometer? It's so big, Doctor . . ."

Mindlessly deep inside her, he pushed further, twisting until their skins felt like a slippery whole. He gave a quick jerk of his hips, keeping hers still with his large hands on her bottom, just unseating the plug he had made of himself. Her voice was a keening, gasping hiccup as he popped back into place just as quickly to meld with her again.

Teresa felt wild with sensation, a rut of need where he buried that plum of a head into her, unseating it with a pop of his hips, drilling into the depths of her arousal. Her body had no intention of holding back from it and exploded into orgasm. With a sobbing sound, she gripped his shoulders as she pulsed around him, out of control and saying his name, thrashing around the lusty pivot wedged deep inside. She was flying apart, crying and writhing helplessly as she tried to hold back and then couldn't.

"Teresa . . . Teresa . . ." He whispered to her, plucking soft kisses from her lips.

"Patrick, help me . . . million pieces . . . can't control anyth- . . . oh, god." A new, more powerful round of spasms gripped her core, detonating deep where he still worked her, bringing orgasm after orgasm. He was wood and friction, teasing a fire neither would put out.

"I've got you. Don't be frightened. Just let go, let go . . ."

Her cries were torn, ragged, caught in a feral rhythm that made her shake in his arms. She tried to sob into his neck, but her body made her arch away, throat open as she cried in ecstasy at the ride he gave, an unstoppable rhythm until he groaned, wrapping his arms tightly around her hips, holding her in place to satisfy his instinct to come deep inside where nature told him to fill her with the seed that pumped from him like lava.

When he let her down, his knees felt wobbly and he leaned against the tile, catching his breath.

"Now we need another wash!" Lathering him with care, she gently cleaned the organ that had given her so much pleasure, now friction pink, still swollen from rounds of sex. "I think I've made a mess of you tonight." But when she looked at him, she wore a smile of barely disguised satisfaction.

"There's nothing I like better than to get messy with you every night." He let her rinse him, then watched as she shifted to care for herself. "Do you need some help with that?"

She rolled her eyes and smiled. "Let's get some food into you, okay? Just see what's in the fridge that we can make into a meal without cooking. I'm too hungry to wait, so don't wait on me!"

He was just opening his mouth for a roll-up of ham and cheese when she came to the table. His eyes darted to her as she fixed a plate, then came to sit at the table.

"What is it, Patrick? What's bothering you?"

He cleared his throat. "After a day like today, you have to ask?"

"No, no, no. Don't try to con me, Patrick Jane. You watch me and every time I turn towards you, you look away. And if you don't stop clearing your throat, I'll assume you're choking and give you the Heimlich maneuver." She lifted her attention from preparing a morsel and looked him square in the face as she popped it into her mouth. Her eyes were clear and expectant as she chewed and waited calmly for him to speak.

"It's getting to me."

She stopped chewing. "What is?"

"The secrecy. Not telling anyone."

"Oh. I . . . I'm not sure what to say. I thought you understood."

"Only that you wanted it to be secret, at least from work, but it wasn't because you were embarrassed about me."

"That's right. I'm very proud to have you in my life."

"My mind can understand that, Teresa. But my feelings . . . no. It hurts. It makes me feel irritable, a little angry I guess. It makes me feel like acting out because I don't understand it and I feel like I have no say."

"I, I'm glad you told me. I'm sorry. We didn't take that much time with it before. We should have. It's a big issue that affects both of us. I didn't mean it to seem so heavy-handed."

"If it's really what you want, we'll go with it. But it's better if you know. I didn't want it to get in the way of, of us." He huffed out a big sigh. "Wow, that was hard. But I feel a little better to tell you how I feel, no matter what you decide."

Teresa scooted her chair next to Patrick and slid her plate to her new place, carefully rolling another bite of food. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he pulled their heads together for a moment and let go, waiting for her to say something.

Bite in her fingers, she turned to him. "You have to believe I am _not_, not in _any_ way embarrassed about being with you. Not in any way, Patrick."

He nodded at the ring of truth in what she said, relieved.

"You're a beautiful man, the right man, for me. There is no other. Never will be. If you don't understand or believe anything else I say, you have to believe that." Moving to set her food down, Jane stopped her.

"No. Eat. Nothing's going wrong. We're just talking." Softer, "Okay?"

Nodding, she popped the morsel into her mouth, chewing quietly.

"Lisbon. Teresa." Jane put a hand softly on her cheek. "You don't need permission to talk with food in your mouth in your own house. Or with me."

The smile she flashed him turned impish, and she kissed his cheek with her sloppy mouth. "Mmmm," she laughed. "Kissing as a facial. Next time, I'll eat avocado."

He didn't wipe his cheek, knowing there would be nothing there, only her "gotcha."

She wiped a little wet from his cheek with her fingers and swallowed a sip of wine. "I'm not embarrassed about you. I'm embarrassed about me. How I behaved. What people say about me. Gossip."

"But you're . . . you're impeccable!"

Now she caressed his cheek. "Awwww, thank you. But my behavior hasn't been. At the CBI, everybody knew me for a long time. Here at FBI? Just a year."

"And they love you! They're impressed!"

"With my work? I like to think so. But what else have they seen, the things they really like to gossip about?" She filled his empty wine glass and refreshed hers. "Assuming I was here because the FBI wanted you and I was your squeeze."

"Ha! I only wished you were my squeeze!"

"Our difficulties getting along. Correction, _my_ problem getting along with you. Then, out of the blue I'm in a whirlwind romance with a stranger! Kissing at elevators, for Christ's sake. In a month I'm quitting my job to follow him to D.C." She checked Jane's face for distress at referring to Marcus, but he just looked at her calmly. "Everything goes down at the Blue Bird. Kim and Abbott know what it's about. Cho should. Then, you and I are both off work for the same two weeks, come back at the same time. I have no D.C. job, no Pike . . . and probably you as a new boyfriend. Marcus turns up in the bullpen looking for me and goes away angry. If an agency full of detectives can't start to put that together, the government is surely wasting its money! It's not a pretty picture of me, Patrick, and I'm still new here."

He chuckled at her view of things, knowing she was certainly right to protect her image from the storm of emotions she couldn't help that drove her seemingly erratic, flighty behavior. "Oh. I think I understand." Leaning to take her into his arms as well as he could in their chairs, he nipped her jaw under the ear and dipped his tongue inside it. "You don't want people to see you as a hussy. To see what a sexual being you are, how you love it. How you're hot enough to have men falling in love with you, right and left, lining up to satisfy your lust. And you going for it!"

"Stop, you idiot!" She giggled a little at the picture he painted.

"It's okay. I'll protect your honor."

She laughed and slapped at his arm. "Oh, _stop_." Her smile was wide enough to hurt her cheeks.

"I will. I understand your feelings and I will honor them to protect you from feeling exposed, in a bad light. And I'll do everything I can to make sure our secret is kept." He cleared his throat and she looked at him sharply. "You said it wasn't forever. Just for a little while."

"Yes. Just a little while."

"How long? I mean, what are the markers for when it's okay for us to 'come out.' You know the harder we try to hide it, the more obvious it will be."

Her eyes were clear when she spoke. "I think we'll know when it feels right. It's a good gauge, huh?" She leaned to him and took a kiss, smiling with love at his own words of commitment. "I don't think it will be long at all." He was frowning again, his lower lip jutting out. "Your face is red, Patrick. What is it?"

"Next time we almost die, Teresa, I'm going to scoop you into my arms for the biggest, most frantic hug and kiss you've ever had. I don't care who's there or what you want. _I_ want it!" He hung his head and shook it. "You stepped back from me!"

"Oh. I, I . . . If I could take that back, I would . . . I saw that it hurt you, and now it's made you angry. I'm sorry."

When he wouldn't look at her she rubbed his arm. He didn't pull away, so she slipped into his lap and pulled his arms around her to settle her head under his chin. "That wasn't about you, sweetheart. It was about me. I was so hyped up. When I'm like that, someone touches me and I fall apart. I'm an FBI agent. I can't start bawling on the job."

"No one would blame you."

"They'd lose respect for me."

"They'd understand. Anyway, fuck them! We're more important!"

"Yeah. I think we are. Fuck them! Next time I almost die, you have my permission to scoop me up and make me cry like a baby in your arms. It's what I'd want to do and where I'd want to be anyway. And I'll do the same for you." She wrapped her arms around him.

"You'd better! And don't say 'next time.'"

"I know." She lifted her face and winked. "We'll be 'out' by then, anyway. Any more instructions?"

"Yes. Let's pick up and go to bed."

After clearing supper, they lay abed in one another's arms, touching and caressing absently in quiet darkness.

"Patrick." She waited while he turned to her. "I want this to come from me."

He was alert now, unsure what was coming, gazing into serious green eyes.

"No more."

"Huh?" He couldn't quiet the nameless dread that coiled in the pit of his stomach.

"No more taking this kind of risk—"

"But I—" She knew he couldn't make such a promise and would always be driven to save her.

"I mean me. I won't take an assignment like this again. Undercover alone. They'll have to find some other way."

The relief that should have washed through him was forced under a crude oil spill of guilt. "No. It was my f-."

"It wasn't. I shouldn't have taken this assignment. I won't do it again."

He feared she would hate him for the respite of exhausted joy that filled him. Pulling her into a close embrace, he tightened it, saying, "It was me. It was my plan that nearly got you killed. How could I ask you-? Just so I could bring it in, catch the bad guy. Abbott wanted to pull you. I should've—why did I-?"

"You didn't know—"

"And I didn't try to know. Just put you—" His voice broke as he pressed his face into her neck, ". . . put you out there, alone, Teresa. How could I?"

"Don't, Patrick. Please don't. We're alive, and together! I learned something today. Something about me. And something about you."

He kissed her, trying to draw any more words from her lips by consuming them before they could drift into the air between them.

Gently, she withdrew from his lips, her fingers in his hair, rubbing his scalp. "I'm desperately in love with you. I can't lose you. It would be the end of me. Me being a cop has to include you because I'm not alone anymore. The risks are always great, but there will be choices and room for me to temper them. And I promise you, I will." She tilted his head so that he was looking into her eyes. "That's for me, Patrick. Do you understand?"

He nodded, tears glistening as she smiled at him. "Thank you." He stroked her hair and laid his hand on her cheek. "What did you learn about me, my love?"

"That you love me so much you will face the greatest terror in your life. Letting go of me by laying down your own life. You will. I know. I can't stop you."

Patrick lowered his gaze. He knew she didn't want him to do such a thing. And she knew he would have to. He spoke softly to the little juts of bone at the base of her throat. "You would do the same for me . . . When you . . . ran to me from where I deserted you on that dark highway, confiscating a car to get to me in Malibu. Where you were sure I would die. Where you would have died with me."

She kissed his forehead. "Don't look away from me yet, my sweet knight." The soft smile on his face, when he turned his eyes to her again, warmed her like uncovering a banked fire. "Losing you would destroy me. You remember that. And I will, too, okay?"

His mouth wobbled as he tried to speak through the threat of breaking down. "I'll remember. I know it won't take away all the risk. But we can make it a little better—together." It felt so wonderful to say that, know it was true and have her sealing kiss on their promise to each other.

They each fervently hoped it would be enough.


End file.
